


Two Paths

by tiffthom



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Black Character(s), Comic, Government Agencies, Marvel Universe, Multi, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Rivalry, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 03:34:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13696008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiffthom/pseuds/tiffthom
Summary: T’Challa relives the worst day of his life on a trip to the United States, and finds himself and Wakanda the victims of several plots conceived by an unknown archenemy, Erik Killmonger. T’Challa’s mettle as King is tested beyond its limits, but even in his darkest hours, he’s assured that he’s never alone.





	Two Paths

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have 748493972 other fics that need my attention but having watched Black Panther, this one is just in my soul. It’s canon divergent from the comics and the movie so no need to worry of spoilers just yet. I may weave in other details from the movie but that’ll come long after it’s premiered everywhere. I hope you like it! We need more Black Panther fanfics, right?

He’d only been a few minutes dozing off under the warmth of the sun with Nakia nestled snugly at his side. Memories of the heat of the blast that took his father’s life made beads of sweat roll down the sides of T’Challa’s face. The clanging boom after his eyes locked with T’Chaka’s pulled him out of his sleep, making him jolt upright.

“T’Challa, what is it?” Nakia was right up with him, cupping his cheek.

After a few moments, T’Challa caught his breath, shaking his head, unwilling to recount his nightmare.

“Your father?”

Sometimes Nakia read him like a book, and T’Challa didn’t quite know how he felt about it, liking to remain as mysterious as the truths of Wakanda. He only shook his head, drying his face of the remaining gleam of sweat.

Nakia carried the guilt of their fallen, former king. T’Chaka should not have met such an untimely end especially at the hands of an unstable man who didn’t even intend to go on living in the end.

“I was weak, too late. I could have—”

Nakia disagreed, closed her eyes and bowed her head to arrest his attention and stop him from blaming himself.

“You did what you could, T’Challa. As unfair as they may seem, things transpired the way they were supposed to. I hate that your father could not die an honorable death, but it is the path of a king. One must fall so another may rise. The best way to honor his memory is to rise.”

Her words were as warm as the sun on his skin—gentle unlike the blistering inferno of his memories. He pulled her close despite the complications of their relationship, despite the murmurings of how he was following a little too closely in T’Chaka’s footsteps. T’Challa didn’t care.

Nakia stiffened at his touch, just a little. She loved him with as much closeness as distance. She didn’t fancy herself a queen despite how often she coached him in the ways of a king. Her calling went too far outside of Wakanda’s strict borders.

“We should be on our way to America soon, yeah?”

At her words, T’Challa suddenly remembered that he’d agreed to speak at the annual World Leaders Convention. He groaned at the responsibility, but quickly chastised himself and took pity on his caretakers. So many would either guard his life, prepare his baggage, or provide him safe transport to the United States, and all he had to do was talk for fifty minutes.

“Let us be on our way then,” he finally said.

Nakia surprised him with a quick peck on the lips before standing to her feet. He never really knew where they stood with each other, but wherever it was felt like home so it was enough.

* * *

He settled into his seat for the flight that would feel too long, but nevertheless, comfortable aboard their jet despite the aircraft’s normality. Okoye tapped her fingers against the armrest, a bit annoyed by flying in such a regular manner, bound to regular time. It couldn’t be helped. Their secrets would be on full display if they landed in one of Shuri’s designs.

“Worried about Everett Ross?” Nakia teased her.

Okoye cut her eyes dangerously low and scoffed.

“I’m worried about how much of our King’s time Everett Ross will surely waste. The less time we spend playing nice, the better.”

“Do not be such a spoiled sport, Okoye, really.” Nakia said, winking at Ayo.

T’Challa smiled at their banter. He missed his father with every passing day, in every way the clouds floated across the sky, on the sand of the beaches, in the strength of all his people, but having such loyal women close to him, and spurring him on to his greatest potential made the void less drowning.

The jet landed, and they waited for Everett to show up, taking in the sight of John F. Kennedy International Airport.

“I don’t think they will ever update this drab, gray decor,” Ayo observed.

“What’s worse is I think it will rain soon,” Nakia said, sniffing the air.

T’Challa shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He couldn’t shake his father’s memory. Grief was a strange thing—always lingering and hitting quite fresh at the most inopportune moments. Today was one of those fresh days, a day when his responsibilities took him outside Wakanda, outside the love and understanding of his people who were still grieving and bearing with him.

“It’ll be alright.” Nakia laced her fingers with his as the sound of Everett Ross’ sensible dress shoes approached.

There were men and women with him to act as security and load their luggage.

“And here I was thinking you’d show up with a month’s worth of things and a miniature army like last time,” Ross chuckled, his comments only funny to himself.

Okoye brandished a fake smile on purpose and Ross kept his eyes on T’Challa on purpose.

“We will not be here very long,” T’Challa explained.

“Well, I hope you don’t have jet lag. The conference isn’t until morning but there’s a special dinner tonight to get all of the dignitaries acquainted with one another.”

T’Challa sighed. He wasn’t very hungry nor in the mood to dress out of his black hoodie and dark wash jeans.

Okoye nudged him.

“Dinner sounds like fun, my King. Let’s do it in style.”

Not many people would believe it but Okoye was a lover of fashion and Nakia was simply obsessed. Their eyes were already sparkling. Ayo was more subtle, but T’Challa knew all too well of her shoe fetish.

“Okay, okay,” T’Challa yielded. “To the hotel.”

“Well, it’s an hourlong drive,” Ross cleared his throat.

“Don’t remind me,” T’Challa stopped himself from groaning but complained all the same. “Why is everything in this country so far apart?”

* * *

The rooms were immaculate. Gifts rested on each of their king-sized beds to welcome them, esteemed guests that they were. They agreed on a time to meet in the hallway and Okoye and Ayo closed their doors, delighted to try on new outfits. Nakia smiled at T’Challa and started to close her own door, but T’Challa put his foot in the way and leaned on the door frame.

“Something wrong, my King?” Nakia was coy, and T’Challa loved it.

“Separate rooms?”

“Yes. Is this not how it is at home?”

“You are rarely ever home.”

He had a point. Nakia’s work took her away from Wakanda frequently, leaving their relationship more off than on.

“We are also,” T’Challa leaned in a bit closer, “not at home.”

Nakia wrapped the string of his hoodie around her finger, released it, and slid her hand down his chest.

“We should get ready. We don’t have much time.”

She grinned and shut the door. T’Challa sighed, thinking she was a riddle that only offered one clue at a time.

* * *

Everett met them in the lobby, suddenly very self-conscious of his attire.

“You all look very nice. It’s just dinner, Your Majesty.” Perhaps if he could make them feel overdressed, the reality of how severely underdressed he was would fade.

T’Challa adjusted a cuff link and caught sight of himself in a mirror.

“Come now, Everett,” he said, giving attention to the tie of his tuxedo, “what do they say? ‘A first impression is a lasting impression’.”

Okoye, Ayo, and Nakia chuckled. Everett frowned and they loaded the limousine, heading to the Waldorf Astoria.

As they approached the valet kiosk, Okoye’s skin tingled. Her eyes flitted from left to right and with no further hesitation, she activated one of her Kimoyo beads. An impenetrable shield formed around the limo, and seconds later, the Waldorf went up in flames.

A man calling himself Killmonger watched a screen inside of an armored truck just a few feet away from the scene, and laughed. All of the leaders of the world were dead except one.

“Who’s it gonna be, T’Challa? Which one of us will come out on top?”

T’Challa watched with horror. It was happening all over again.

 


End file.
